


Hardly Any Complaints

by frau_kali



Series: 30 Weeks of Cherik [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Canon Compliant, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Chess, Debating, Erik Has Feelings, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gay and Mutant in the 1960s, Kissing, M/M, Mutant Politics, Telepathy, Washington D.C.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:51:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3526511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frau_kali/pseuds/frau_kali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik and Charles play chess on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and continue their ongoing debate in something that very much resembles a date, even if they both know it can never openly be that.</p>
<p>A fic expanding on that lovely and very shippy scene from the movie :)</p>
<p>(For week 1: on a date.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hardly Any Complaints

**Author's Note:**

> So here we go! This is the first of what I hope will be 30 fics, posted weekly. I'll be using one of those 30 day OTP challenge prompt lists (modified by me) for this, too, though since everything is subject to change I'm not going to post the list itself. And yes, because this is me and I am a porn hound, a lot of what's on the list is smutty.
> 
> These aren't likely to be beta'd, but I will be proof reading and editing them before they go up. Some will be short, some will be slightly longer.
> 
> Thanks also to [mandii](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mandii) for contributing some ideas that made it into this fic.

Erik had never been on a date before. He supposed he had come close, a couple of times, with Magda, but most of their time was spent in the house she owned, the one she'd inherited from her parents, outside of Washington. It was strange now to think he had never actually bothered to go to Washington, but then he'd not really had any reason to. In fact there was much of this country he'd had no reason to visit before now. 

And then Charles had asked him to go, just a couple of days after they'd returned from their last recruiting trip. They were waiting to get more intel about Shaw's whereabouts, and waiting for permission to go on one last trip (to San Francisco, no less) for a few more mutants Erik was not confident would go with them. But then, he wasn't going to complain about more opportunities to spend time alone with Charles in hotel rooms paid for by the CIA, a fact that still surprised him, considering the importance of his mission. He did tell himself, though, that the opportunity to build up their army (if you could call these kids that) made the trips worth it, regardless of whether he knew that was a lie or not.

There was little to do until then. Well, little to do that was “official,” hence, this so-called date that Erik knew could never be a date. Those were reserved for men and women only, for 'normal' people. The thought would've made him scoff if he weren't determined to enjoy this, to hell with other people, it didn't matter that no one knew, this was for them, for him and Charles.

The drive from Richmond to DC lasted about an hour and a half. Charles had suggested they should take the train, but Erik vetoed it rather firmly, considering what had happened _last_ time they took a train. Charles, of course, had simply reminded him how much they'd both enjoyed that, and thought it a terrible reason not to take the train again. 

Erik, however, preferred the car, and said as much, which Charles thankfully understood. The comfort of the humming metal engine, the knowledge that he could control it as he liked without arousing suspicion, and the privacy it afforded both of them to talk about whatever they wanted without the use of Charles' telepathy. Erik had only recently allowed Charles to speak to him that way all the time, and he was still getting used to it, wonderfully intimate or not.

When they finally arrived, Charles took their chess set from the back of the car and smiled fondly as they both wandered from the parking lot and to the Capital Reflecting Pool.

Charles turned to look up at the Lincoln Memorial, rocking on his heels and holding the chessboard against his chest, his eyes shining in a way Erik knew all too well now. He looked at him expectantly.

“What is it?” Charles asked him, turning on his heel a little. Erik noted and appreciated, not for the first time, how pristinely dressed he was, with his suit jacket, trousers, and button down shirt; that the top two buttons were undone did not escape Erik's notice, he'd shown Charles plenty of appreciation for that before. He wondered if Charles spent a great deal of time before settling on those clothes. Not that they were so different from anything else he wore, of course, they were everything Erik had come to associate with the telepath, distinctly _Charles_.

“Go ahead,” Erik said, “you must have some inevitable point to make. You have that insufferably smug look in your eyes.”

“Maybe I'm just appreciating it, taking it all in? I haven't been here since I was a boy, you know.” Charles smirked, and for just a moment his leaning brought him dangerously close, close enough that Erik would've taken advantage of it were they alone. “Look at how far they've come, Erik! From kings to democracy. Surely even you can appreciate that?”

And there it was. He couldn't help but smile, even had to resist the urge to cup Charles' chin with his hand. “I wonder, Charles, how someone so brilliant can be so very naive.”

Charles leaned in closer, dangerously so, for half a second, a frown settling onto his pretty features. “ _Erik_ ,” he spoke softly, put a kind of special emphasis on the name that Erik had come to love, “I am so sorry, you know I am, for what happened to you, but you can't possibly think all of humanity is like that.”

“I don't,” Erik said, gruffly. His mother hadn't been, she'd known about him, loved him anyway. Even so: “But enough of them are for it to matter, and most of them will do nothing about it, or be too afraid, either of us or their own government. Persecuting people who are different, who they're afraid of, I can give you thousands of examples, and many of them only from this century or the last.” His tone turned dry then: “But look at how far they've come, Charles!”

He could tell Charles was trying not to smile at that, he seemed to take so much in stride. “It does take time. And we do have Moira and our friends at the CIA.” He fell into step beside Erik as they moved upward, the telepath's gaze switching between the rather impressive statue of Lincoln and Erik.

“Your friends.” Erik would be a fool to trust them, their loyalties would be with their own in the end, and though he wouldn't call Charles a fool (usually), he was still frequently shocked by the other's idealism, and shocked further that he liked the man so much despite this. “And they're exceptions, not the rule.”

Charles shook his head, his eyes soft when he said: “What about Shaw? He's one of us, not them, and he's the one responsible for your suffering. I know you worry about the humans persecuting us, but mutants are not saintly, Erik, we love and hate just as they do.” He let his hand quickly brush Erik's then, perhaps to try and smooth over how he'd brought up Shaw.

Erik bristled at that; similarities or not, mutants were still better, could still do things no human could, but arguing that would be missing the larger point. “Shaw took advantage of a system put in place by humans; he always talked of how he never believed what the Nazis did, but he used the camps and the persecution of my people--” he still saw the Jews as that, and he always would, even if he had lost his faith, because what God would allow his chosen people to be nearly annihilated? “--for his own ends, so he could experiment on mutants and create monsters. It might not have been as easy for him if he didn't have all that human hatred to hide behind.” Though he'd thought he was alone then, he felt sure now that, had liberation not come, Shaw would've tried to find others.

Charles stopped suddenly, putting his hand on Erik's arm. “You're _not_ a monster, Erik,” he spoke almost forcefully, so certain of it. _How many times must I remind you of that, my friend? You're beautiful, and you mean so much to me. Don't let him define you._

Erik said nothing aloud, but after a moment allowed himself to push his feelings of affection at Charles; he had other feelings he did not entirely understand, too, and they grew when Charles looked at him as he was now, with wonder and desire and so much hope. That familiar flutter he felt in his chest at the thought of it came back easily enough.

He knew, in his heart, that he would eventually fall from the pedestal Charles had placed him on, but somehow Charles made him want to stay there. It even made him wish that he might be wrong about the humans, and it had him want other things that he dared not admit, even to himself.

Charles finally took a seat, glancing over to see Erik had already chosen black and was setting up his side of the board.

They began their game in silence, each of them taking the time to gaze out over the landscape before them; the Reflecting Pool and the Washington Monument beyond that. It was a lovely day, if a bit n cold, and they were mostly alone. Though not alone enough for Erik to lean over and kiss Charles, or touch his hand for longer than a few seconds. Such prejudices (and the price people had paid for being different in Germany during the war) did nothing to endear him to Charles' precious humans.

Charles smiled then, eyes firmly fixed on Erik, watching him in a way that did nothing for Erik's desire to kiss him breathless. It would've been so easy to do it, too, with the way Charles had positioned himself, one elbow resting on the step above where he sat, practically laying across them, facing Erik.

And then Charles spoke and his desires were tempered in favour of more debate. “I can't stop thinking about the others out there, all those minds that I touched. I could feel them, their hopes, their isolation. I tell you, we're at the start of something incredible, Erik. We can help them.”

“Can we?” Erik replied at once, all his reservations about this venture coming back to the fore. He may have been alright with it, but for one problem: The CIA. “Identification, that's how it starts. And it ends with being rounded up, experimented on, eliminated.”

“Not this time,” Charles said, a little softness in his voice that Erik had long since accepted was kindness rather than pity. “We have common enemies; Shaw, the Russians. They _need_ us.”

“For now.” Erik did not follow that up with his certainty of the inevitable truth, that the humans would turn on them once they were no longer useful, quite possibly as early as after they'd defeated Shaw. Charles would come to understand that, he was sure. He was also sure they would still disagree, and Charles would still infuriate him while somehow managing to be wonderful. It didn't matter, Erik loved being engaged intellectually like this, and so long as Charles was at his side it would be alright.

Assuming he survived killing Shaw, of course, but he grew more certain he would with each passing day. Charles Xavier had given him a reason to think about life beyond his vendetta with the revelation that he was not alone. And, well, other things, too, like the warmth he felt in his chest when he looked at the man seated across from him.

“You know, Erik,” Charles said, with a hint of faux exasperation, “you're far too cynical.”

Erik couldn't help but smile at him now. “And you're far too naive. As I said, it clashes with your brilliance.”

“Hopeful,” Charles said, with some mock offence, “I'm hopeful, and idealistic. We have a chance to promote understanding and co-operation, to use that to ensure your fears aren't realized.”

Erik leaned toward him, purposefully ignoring his rehash of old arguments, but still giving him a small smile. “I prefer naive.” And because he could not resist, he added, mentally: _I'd like to kiss you right now, I can see how much you want me to. But if I did, we could be arrested. So much for the land of the free._

Charles wasted no time before he took a quick glance around, then put two fingers to his temple as he reached out and touched Erik's hand, sliding their fingers together. _Come with me._ He jumped to his feet, and Erik followed with some bewilderment. He walked up the steps, not at all worried about leaving the chess set or Charles' book bag behind; the telepath would sense anyone who tried to steal them, and stop them before they could. Besides, they hadn't finished their game yet.

Together they climbed the steps, until they were both at the entrance and looking up at the grand statue of Abraham Lincoln, sitting before them. Well, them and the four or five other people Erik could see wandering around the memorial.

“Charles--” He started, but Charles merely put a hand to his lips before pulling him into the grand room and over toward one of the corner pillars. Erik barely had any chance to look around before Charles' hand went to his temple once more and his lips pressed firmly against Erik's, muffling Erik's startled groan.

_Don't worry about them, darling,_ Charles' smug mental voice sounded in his head, _they're just seeing two people talking quietly._

Erik might've chuckled if his lips weren't otherwise occupied. _Talking_ , indeed. He shifted against the pillar he was pressed against, hands gripping Charles' hips as he settled into the kiss, enough for their tongues to be pressed together within moments.

When they parted, and Charles' hand fell from his temple, they were both grinning. Erik very much wanted to tell Charles just how wonderful he was in that moment, but he couldn't find it in him to form the words. So instead he simply joined his friend on the floor, the two of them staring up at the statue.

_Charles_ , Erik thought after a few moments of silence, _you should know I'm not opposed to our finding others like us and helping them_ \--or preparing them against the likely war that was coming, though Erik did not voice that part-- _it's only the CIA and the humans knowing about it that I worry about._

Charles nodded, smiling sadly. _I know, love. Maybe one day the CIA won't be involved, but I do trust Moira and Agent Platt._ Erik decided not to point out how unlikely it was that the CIA would just stop being involved unless they'd turned on them first. He knew it would happen, that Moira would not help them then, and Charles would come round then.

As they sat there, seeing the text of Lincoln's Gettysburg Address on the walls, Erik thought their political debate was going to continue. But Charles said nothing of it, merely put his hand over Erik's and leaned in a little closer to him, as Erik leaned down and brushed their lips together.

No one around them took any notice, of course. If this really was a date, then apart from the hiding, Erik hardly had any complaints.


End file.
